One Last Dance
by mynameisqwerty
Summary: Left alone in a nursing home, Peggy Carter gets a visitor - asking for a dance...


Peggy works her way slowly through the tasteless, mushy food they've given her today. They call it soup. She's had better food in the War. She wonders if anyone will visit her today. She doubts it. She highly suspects she had been put in the nursing home to be forgotten about.

Everyone is dead or dying. They wheeled her out for the Colonel's funeral a week back. He'd been a survivor to the end, though his mind had been going. Alzheimer's. It's a killer. Stark of course, was long since gone. And Steve …

Well at least she would never have to go to Steve's funeral.

She married after the War. She was a Woman in a Man's World. Gabe had been kind. A good choice. Good enough. Not Steve.

Children came soon after. Then Grandchildren.

Gabe was dead too, of course.

Now she lay here, waiting for death. It wasn't as morbid as it sounded. Old age seemed to do that to you. Death was only the next stop on the train. She fingers the silver cross that hangs round her thin neck, hoping she isn't wrong.

There is a knock at the door, breaking her out of her reverie. A head with black hair and bright highlights pops out from the corridor. One of the new girls. Casey or Cassie. Something like that. Peggy tries not to focus on the girl's lip piercing as she speaks.

"Hi Peggy. You've got a visitor! Isn't that nice,"

A visitor? Who?

A young man in a suit comes through the door. She doesn't know him, but she would recognise that stiff posture anywhere. This is a Government Man.

The Government Man speaks softly to Casey or Cassie, asking her to give them a minute. So it's that kind of business. The door closes and the Government Man turns to her, hands in front of him, holding files.

"Hello Mrs Carter, my name is Phil Coulson."

"I'm a little old for fieldwork, Phillip."

He cracks a smile and steps forward, opening up the files in his hands.

"You're familiar with Project Rebirth, ma'am."

It isn't a question. Peggy feels her whole body tense.

"Yes" she manages.

Coulson sits on the chair closest to the bed and hands her the files. She doesn't open them.

"Can't you leave me be? I know what's inside those files. Don't think I haven't read them."

"With respect, Mrs Carter, I don't believe you've read the new information."

She looks him straight in the eye.

"There's no new information. Project Rebirth is a cold case."

He takes her hand.

"Agent Carter." He's dropped all pretence now. "Steve Rodgers survived."

"Don't lie to an old woman"

"He lived. The serum allowed him to enter a state of suspended animation, frozen in the ice. We found him just last year. He was key to the Battle of New York."

She'd read about what happened in New York in the paper.

Hours later, Coulson is ready to leave her.

"Peggy –," he says, hand on the doorframe.

"Agent Carter," she corrects.

"He wants to see you Agent Carter,"

He leaves the files behind. She read them over again. Late into the night.

***

A week later, on a Saturday, another man in a suit comes through her door. One of those old suits. She knows him. He carries flowers and real chocolate. The good stuff.  
"Hello Peggy,"  
"Hello Steve"  
"I – um,"  
She laughs then. He hasn't changed at all. Still awkward, still lovely. Still young.  
"Come closer," She's in her armchair. He sits on the bed. Just taking her in. She got dressed up too. She's in her nice dress, and she got the hairdresser to do her hair up properly in curls like she used to do herself.  
"You're late," she manages. The laughter is so freeing and she hopes – though doubts – that all their interaction will be this easy. They talk as they make their way through the chocolate. Casey – that is her name after all – puts the flowers in a vase by her bed. There are some tears, but not all are sad ones. She tells him about her family, her life after the War, everything that's happened. He's still reeling from missing 70 years of history and although it seems miraculous, he confesses to her that sometimes, in those dark hours late at night, he wishes he hadn't survived. She takes his hand. His skin feels so smooth. So different from her own, withered fingers. Steve looks up with a soft smile, and then, with a softer hand, he slowly caresses her cheek. A tear falls over his finger as she mirrors him. In this almost perfect moment all she can think of is how cruel God must be to have taken away their chance.

"I wish I'd got to dance with you," she whispers.  
"You still could," he whispers back.  
"Steve, I'm an old woman in a wheelchair. I can't even walk anymore,"  
"You don't need to walk,"

He's helping her out of her armchair into her wheelchair, and Glenn Miller plays in the background, and they dance. Steve pushing her around in intoxicating circles. She never thought she'd get this chance and the swirling universe looks so beautiful. The music slows and everything is sweetness. He comes round to face her again.

"Come on, Peggy. We've waited so long for the right partner."

He's lifting her up. Out of the confines of her small wheeled box, holding her with the most gentle strength she's ever known and there they stand. One old, one new. Swaying in time.

She doesn't know how long it lasts. An eternity at least. He puts her down. She's in her bed. He was always ever so gentle. She asks him to stay by her that night. She's so tired now.

***

In the morning she's gone. But through the tears and pain and grief Steve Rodgers thanks God for the time they had together.


End file.
